


The Space in Our Togetherness

by nargles_exist



Series: Savage Garden Series [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, King!Wakatoshi, M/M, Romance novelist!Satori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nargles_exist/pseuds/nargles_exist
Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi is awakened by his husband in the middle of the night and marvels at his good fortune.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: Savage Garden Series [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726978
Comments: 1
Kudos: 117





	The Space in Our Togetherness

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little tiny side story that is set in my Savage Garden universe. I kind of have half-formed ideas for most of the characters and how they fit into the AU, but the Shiratorizawa crew hasn't really appeared yet. Since it was Shiratorizawa Week on Twitter just recently, I thought I'd write up a little peek into their lives. It's very messy and self-indulgent.
> 
> They may or may not appear later in the main story group, but rest assured that they are happy together in their island kingdom. :)

_Scritch, scritch, scritch._

Wakatoshi drifted into wakefulness slowly but irresistibly. The room was dim, lit by flickering candle rather than the first rays of dawn, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes only half open, as he tried to determine what had woken him. The mattress trembled a little underneath him in response to movement from the other side of the bed, and the incessant scritching noise registered, combining to lead him to the most likely conclusion. 

Slowly, he shifted over to his other side, squinting against the brightness of a naked candle. “Satori,” he rumbled, his voice deep and rough with sleep. “What are you doing?”

“Mmm?” replied Satori, not pausing to glance back at him. He was still in bed, technically. Fine linen sheets were twisted around him as he contorted into a half-sitting position, hunched over the bedside table. He was steadily scribbling on sheets of loose paper, smearing ink in his haste.

As Wakatoshi watched, he reached the end of one sheet and pushed it up and out of his way, either not noticing or not caring that it fell to the floor a moment later. He was already a third of the way down the next page. 

Sighing, Wakatoshi pulled a pillow to a better position under his head and watched his husband for a few minutes. His eyes were heavy and longed to close once more, but he rarely got to see Satori like this. His dark red hair was mussed from sleep, standing out from his head in oddly placed peaks, and the loose sleep shirt was also in disarray, falling to one side and revealing an angular, pale shoulder. Wakatoshi was tempted to move closer and kiss that shoulder, but he didn’t want to distract Satori from whatever was captivating him. 

It was not so strange to find his husband in this state, and although he had asked, he didn’t need a response to know exactly what he was doing. Wakatoshi’s lips curled up slightly in silent pride. Satori made an excellent consort and council member, but his true gift was in weaving stories. It was kind of an open secret; people knew that he was an author, but not many knew his pen name. Wakatoshi thought it might give some of the older council members apoplexy if they knew the king’s husband was publishing romance novels. Especially because some of them were spectacularly pornographic.

Wakatoshi was used to people underestimating his husband. For one thing, everyone knew that he hadn’t been born royal, or even noble, and he didn’t always bow to societal conventions. He was bright and talkative and cheerful, very unlike Wakatoshi’s stoic demeanor. The colorful songbird to his bird of prey. In this case, however, the songbird had the sharper eye and the sharper talons. Satori was a genius of observation and strategy, and Wakatoshi relied on his support both in the council chamber and in societal interactions. Even if he was across the room, a sea of people between them, he could instantly tell when Wakatoshi started floundering and was immediately on his way to rescue him. 

Chest swelling with love and appreciation for his husband, Wakatoshi reached out a large hand and smoothed it up Satori’s back. “You’re going to get a spasm if you stay twisted up like that,” he murmured. It didn’t look very comfortable.

“I’m almost done,” Satori assured him. “I can’t stop.” 

And he didn’t, even as he replied to Wakatoshi. His pen was still flying across the paper. 

He got like this sometimes. It wasn’t often in the middle of the night, thankfully, but wherever he was, when he got an idea, he had to immediately write it out, let it flow out of him, or else he would forget it. And he was practically impossible to live with when he forgot an idea because he got extremely frustrated, and he tried for days or even weeks to grasp the elusive memory. 

It was gratifying for Wakatoshi to see his husband's passion and creativity. Shiratorizawa was a small island kingdom, and while he was sure the council _could_ find things to bicker about every day of the week, he was the official monarch, and he was content to let his citizens live their lives without much interference. This was largely due to Satori's influence, but it suited him just fine to put down the crown sometimes. He and Satori had time to pursue their own interests, as well as their shared interest in each other. Honestly, he had never thought he could be so happy. 

Satori was his ideal mate. If he believed in such nonsense, he might say they were destined to fall in love. But he knew that it had been a choice, and he occasionally had nightmares where he had chosen wrong and had lost Satori. That would have been pure misery, and it twisted his stomach to even consider it. He had tried to relate his feelings to Satori once, not just that he loved him, but that he had made his life so much better, that the thought of life without him was sickening and unbearable… but he was not good with words. Satori always understood him, though. 

It was interesting for those who knew Satori to read his books. He was often flippant and even cheeky in his speech and manner, as though he didn't take anything seriously. He was probably still able to publish anonymously because no one could fathom Satori creating such tender, romantic characters and scenarios. Even with Wakatoshi, he was rarely demonstrative in public, saving his affection for their private chambers or their gardens. It gave Wakatoshi a secret thrill when he caught a certain look in Satori's eyes and he _knew _that Satori was thinking about him.__

__With a deep sigh, Satori stopped writing and let his pen drop to the table. He twisted his head from side to side, stretching out his neck, and then he bent forward to blow out the candle. As Wakatoshi’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could feel the bed shifting as Satori rearranged himself, sliding under the covers and rolling half atop Wakatoshi. He stretched his whole body taut like a bowstring, his shoulders rising to his ears and his toes pointing. Then he relaxed, letting his body go limp against Wakatoshi, his satisfied sigh a soft puff of air in Wakatoshi’s ear._ _

__Wakatoshi’s hands stroked up his husband’s back, and he frowned when Satori shivered. It wasn’t a shiver of pleasure, but one of cold. He could feel the raised bumps of Satori’s skin and tsked accordingly. “You’re cold.”_ _

__“Yes, dear,” mumbled Satori. “It’s wintertime.”_ _

__Snorting, Wakatoshi knew that it would be no use to lecture his husband about taking better care of himself. He knew Satori didn’t mean to sit up in their cold room in the middle of the night, clad only in a sleep shirt, until he caught a chill. He doubted he had even noticed the temperature until he had finished writing. Silently, he began to vigorously rub Satori’s arms, hoping to warm him up quickly._ _

__Satori was happily snuggling into his neck and rubbing his cold feet on Wakatoshi’s calves._ _

__“What was your idea?” asked Wakatoshi, after a few moments of this._ _

__“Mmm,” murmured Satori, his voice sleepy and soft. “A nobleman is on his way across the sea to his arranged marriage, and his ship is wrecked. He’s drowning, but at just the last minute, something comes through the water to him, and he wakes up in an underwater kingdom. The god of the sea has formed a court of drowned people, who are now sort of merpeople, and they help protect his realm and stuff.”_ _

__“And he falls in love with the god?” guessed Wakatoshi._ _

__“Nope. Well, not that one. He goes to his assigned area of ocean, which surrounds a tiny deserted island… except that it’s not deserted. There’s one man that he sees again and again, and--” He paused to yawn. “--they eventually meet, and the man is the guardian of the island, but all the inhabitants have died or moved on, so he’s been alone for ages, and the drowned man is his only company, so they fall in love. But he can’t leave the island or he will lose his guardianship status, and the island will sink into the sea. There’s all kinds of drama, and I haven’t quite worked it out yet, but obviously, they will live happily ever after.”_ _

__“I like it,” said Wakatoshi, after a moment of consideration. He would look forward to reading it and seeing exactly how his husband’s vivid imagination painted the fantastical settings and the tangle of emotions that would come into play as the story progressed. But… “You didn’t base anyone off of any of the council members this time, did you?”_ _

__Satori’s fingers--which had been idly stroking through his hair--stilled for a moment. “I… _might_ have modeled the jealous, jilted fiancé after Tsutomu,” he finally admitted._ _

__“Satori,” scolded Wakatoshi, his tone severe. “You are going to lose your anonymity if you keep this up. It’s bad enough that the woodcutter in the last one was clearly me.”_ _

__“ _Based on_ you,” corrected Satori. “And you’re both public enough figures that anyone could have taken your likenesses. Besides,” he added, and Wakatoshi could feel his wide grin where it was pressed against his throat. “It’s too fun to stop.”_ _

__“What am I going to do with you?” Wakatoshi asked. He had heard this lament many times from his childhood tutors and minders, and he unconsciously imitated their tones of despair._ _

__“Just love me like you promised.”_ _

__He was used to Satori pulling him from emotion to emotion in rapid succession, but it still took him a moment to adjust. After a pause where his exasperation melted into fondness, he whispered, “I can do that.”_ _


End file.
